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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24347125">and i choose you, always you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubadore/pseuds/troubadore'>troubadore</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Universe, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:14:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,317</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24347125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubadore/pseuds/troubadore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It goes quiet between them as Geralt's eyes land first not on the wound, but on the stark lines of Jaskier's soul mark, curving gracefully up the left side of his torso from hip to armpit. It's large—very large—for a mark: a wolf, he sees, its back to him and looking over its shoulder with intense eyes. Soul marks are traditionally colorless, just black lines, but the lack of shading implies it's meant to be a very light color. </p>
<p><em>White,</em> he thinks, <em>it's a white wolf.</em> </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>766</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>and i choose you, always you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>me, coming at u with yet another soulmate au??? its more likely than u think</p>
<p>i've had this idea floating in my head for months so i finally had to write something for it bc i'm a slut for a good soul mark au</p>
<p> </p>
<p>also zero drew me both <a href="https://twitter.com/Plus9Renegade/status/1227404080282128384?s=20">jaskier's</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/Plus9Renegade/status/1229134191897399296?s=20">geralt's</a> soul mark tattoos and i still cry abt them to this day i WILL be getting them as tattoos of my own juST WATCH ME</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They stumble up to their room at the inn, Jaskier's arm over Geralt's shoulders as he supports his weight. He can smell Jaskier's blood where it seeps from the wound in his side, staining his shirt, but he's not worried; the wound is superficial at best—when Jaskier is actually hurt he goes quiet, and right now he's still muttering about how he's never going to get the blood out. </p>
<p>"It's ruined, Geralt!" he whines, as Geralt dumps him onto the bed gracelessly. "And for what? The fight wasn't even that impressive!" </p>
<p>"I told you it would be a waste of your time," Geralt says, unsympathetic. He digs around in his bag, grabbing some clean cloth to wet and clean the wound with. </p>
<p>Jaskier sniffs, gazing down at his shirt with sad eyes. Geralt knows he'll get over it—it really doesn't bother him now, he just likes to be dramatic—and so feels no guilt in pulling it off him and tossing it to the floor without care, crouching down to get a better look at the wound. </p>
<p>It goes quiet between them as Geralt's eyes land first not on the wound, but on the stark lines of Jaskier's soul mark, curving gracefully up the left side of his torso from hip to armpit. It's large—very large—for a mark: a wolf, he sees, its back to him and looking over its shoulder with intense eyes. Soul marks are traditionally colorless, just black lines, but the lack of shading implies it's meant to be a very light color. </p>
<p><em> White, </em> he thinks, <em> it's a white wolf.  </em></p>
<p>His own mark on the back of his neck tingles, a pleasantly warm sensation. Geralt swallows thickly, and he finally brings his eyes up to meet Jaskier's soft, fond look. His blue eyes are bright even in the dim light of the room. He reaches out the hand closest to Geralt and his fingers gently caress along Geralt's jaw as they move to rest over the buttercups tattooed at the top of his spine. </p>
<p>With as often as Jaskier helps him bathe after hunts, of course he's seen the small cluster of blooms Geralt keeps hidden beneath his hair. He would trace them with tender, reverent fingers as he washed Geralt's hair, and it soothed something primal in Geralt, though before now he hadn't thought too hard about <em> why.  </em></p>
<p>Well. Now he knows. </p>
<p>All his long, long life, he's fought against Destiny and her ceaseless machinations against him, guiding him where she wants, no regard for what his choice might be, and now she's tied this beautiful soul to him, chained this fiery and lively free spirit to his dark and twisted existence, took away their choice—</p>
<p>Jaskier's fingers give his neck a squeeze, pulling Geralt out of his thoughts, and he blinks up at the soft expression on Jaskier's face. </p>
<p>"It means only what you want it to mean," Jaskier says, ever so gentle. "It's a suggestion, nothing more. We do with it what we choose, Geralt." </p>
<p>Geralt takes a breath, holds it, and lets it out slowly, eyes falling back to the wolf imprinted on Jaskier's skin. </p>
<p>
  <em> What we choose.  </em>
</p>
<p>Most people choose the obvious route of consummating a romantic relationship when faced with the person who bears the mark that represents their soul. Plenty of others, however, choose to remain platonic, lifelong friends. </p>
<p>Geralt isn't sure what he wants in the moment—he cares for Jaskier, he knows this much, but making it something <em> more? </em>It terrifies him, the idea of opening himself up, of being so vulnerable even with Jaskier who he knows would cradle his beaten, worn heart like it's something precious. </p>
<p>The thought of remaining nothing more than friends, however, leaves a sour taste in his mouth nearly as bad as the terror that grips his chest at the other option. </p>
<p>But—Jaskier isn't making him pick one or the other. He's telling Geralt they can make it their own, whatever they want to do, however they need it to be. </p>
<p>And it could change; Geralt's heard of people who start out as platonic who grow into a romantic relationship, and vice versa. It doesn't have to be <em> only </em>one way or the other. </p>
<p>He breathes easier the longer he looks at the wolf, Jaskier's hand a steady, grounding warmth on his neck as his thoughts finally settle. Eventually, he looks back at Jaskier, back to those bright blue eyes and that small, fond smile Jaskier reserves just for him. </p>
<p>
  <em> We do with it what we choose.  </em>
</p>
<p>So, Geralt chooses: he lets his calloused fingers trace over Jaskier's soul mark, an acknowledgment, the touch so light it's barely there—though Jaskier still sucks in a startled breath and his muscles tense, like it tickles—and then brings up the cloth in his other hand to finally wipe away the dried blood from the wound in his side, and the tension that had settled over them doesn't break so much as it seems to gently dissipate, like an exhaled breath. </p>
<p>Jaskier's hand remains on his neck, fingers dancing lightly over the lines of the buttercups as Geralt applies healing salve to the long but shallow gash and bandages him up, humming one of his latest tunes to fill the quiet. When he's done, Jaskier looks at his handiwork and then grins at him. </p>
<p>"Good as new?" he asks, like he can't see it himself, and Geralt rolls his eyes, standing up from the crouch he'd taken to tend to Jaskier. </p>
<p>"It won't scar," he says, not quite an answer. "But maybe next time you'll actually listen to me when I tell you it'll be too boring for you." </p>
<p>Jaskier makes a considering noise, patting Geralt's chest as he stands and moves to his things to grab a new shirt. "Eh, probably not. Boring hunts mean I get to exercise my creative liberties." </p>
<p>"You say creative liberties, I say lies." </p>
<p>"That's because you're boring and lack imagination." </p>
<p>"I'm imagining a lot right now." </p>
<p>"Oh?" </p>
<p>"Yeah. You shutting up." </p>
<p>"Ooh, big dreams! How's that working out for you?" </p>
<p>Their banter continues as they head from the inn to the tavern for dinner, and Geralt feels his shoulders relax even more when he sits at a table in the back and watches Jaskier perform for the evening crowd while he eats. It's so <em> easy </em>with Jaskier sometimes that Geralt's starting to forget why he'd ever not wanted Jaskier with him in the first place. </p>
<p>Jaskier looks his way several times throughout his set, and each time he sends a smile or a wink Geralt's way, as he always does. Geralt feels his lips twitch with an answering smile, small and nearly unnoticeable as it is, and feels warmth spread through his chest, a pleasant tingle on the back of his neck. </p>
<p>Though he's in a new, not-bloodstained shirt and doublet, Geralt can still see the image of the wolf beneath Jaskier's clothes, can feel the intensity of its gaze which he knows if it were in color would be gold. </p>
<p>Suddenly, Geralt thinks he'd like to trace the lines of the wolf with his lips, to taste Jaskier's skin and feel him pressed up against his body, to swallow his songs with his own mouth. He wants those nimble fingers tracing his scars and touching him with aching tenderness and reverence, like they do already but—more. </p>
<p>He wants <em> more.  </em></p>
<p>He wants to give himself to Jaskier, to open himself up and pull his own heart out and lay it at Jaskier's feet and ask him to treat it gently, even though it scares him. </p>
<p>He wants to hold Jaskier's heart in return, even though it terrifies him that he might crush it in his hands that were made to hurt and harm and kill. He wants the chance to try.</p>
<p>
  <em> We choose.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And, well—Geralt chooses Jaskier. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="http://twitter.com/troubadorer">twitter</a> // <a href="http://geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek.tumblr.com">tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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